


Deja que te Diga Cosas al Oído (Despacito)

by i_write_shakespeare_not_disney



Series: Angsty/Fluffy/Smutty Klance One Shots from Tumblr [4]
Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender, vld - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_shakespeare_not_disney/pseuds/i_write_shakespeare_not_disney
Summary: Keith and the gang go to a club and Keith is enraptured by how well Lance seems to move regardless of who he dances with. Then all of a sudden he's the one caught between Lance and many swaying bodies.





	Deja que te Diga Cosas al Oído (Despacito)

Clubs were never high on the list of things to do in college. Yet here he was, with Hunk, Shiro, Allura, and the stubborn hardhead that brought them all here to begin with- Lance. Pidge was dog sitting, and Keith seriously wished he was there with her. Hanging out with Pidge was always a better alternative to these outings Lance sucked them into.

Music was pounding through the entire club, colorful lights flashed and glided over exposed bodies and sweaty faces, bodies pressed together, swaying sensually to the music. It was the same stupid beat remixed into each song, so Keith didn’t see what the big deal was.

Still, as he glanced around and realized that everyone seemed to have someone to dance against, someone to make out with, he figured it didn’t matter what they were dancing to. They were just dancing with someone. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, feeling exhausted even though he hadn’t even danced.

Hunk was busy tossing back beers which didn’t seem to faze him. His tattoos seemed to attract girls to him and he was kind enough to explain that they were all meaningful tattoos that were part of his culture. Again, Keith wondered how he could even hold a conversation over the beating bass.

Shiro and Allura were dancing. They weren’t pressed against each other like every other couple, but Allura still moved exotically, drawing other people’s eyes to her as Shiro did his best to keep wandering hands away from her.

Lance of course was in the center of a giant crowd of dancers. Everyone was grinding against each other, goading each other on, allowing ten seconds of solo dancing in the center of a circle they’d created. Lance had a girl in front of him and a guy behind him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He still smiled that goofy, cocky smile of his.

It was incredible how well his body could move. Keith never would’ve pegged Lance for a dancer. He imagined he would look awkward and clumsy. And yet there he was, maneuvering his way around girls and guys alike, swaying, laughing, singing, moving as sensually and welcoming as the girls with the dominance of the guys.

“You could just tell him,” Hunk said, suddenly beside him. Keith glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “That you like him. Or that you want to dance with him.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t like anyone. I don’t have time for it. Lance gives me headaches, butterflies. And I don’t dance either.” His eyes flitted back to Lance where he had his hands on a girl’s hips and moved her side to side along with himself.

The funny thing was that although it was a very intimate, sensual move, Lance didn’t look like he was trying to grope her. His hands were firm, placed high enough, and his smile was friendly.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Hunk said with a sigh. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to admit it. He’s my best friend, and I know he wouldn’t be upset with you if you told him.” Keith grimaced and looked at Hunk again. “Dude, we all see how you are with him. How you seem to sit up straighter when he comes in the room, how you keep your eyes on him when he talks, how you blush when you argue with him. He’s the only one who really riles you up. Even when you argue with Pidge or Shiro, you don’t get that way.”

“No, I don’t,” he muttered. “I don’t sit up or stutter or blush or stare, Hunk.” Suddenly, Lance was making his way over to them, laughing and smelling of sweat and perfume and cologne. Keith shifted in his seat and leaned forward. He heard Hunk snort and he glared at him. “Shut up.”

Lance slid into the booth beside Keith and took the cup of water he had in front of him, tossing it back. “Come on, Mullet have a little fun,” he said. “You’re not drinking, you’re not dancing, you’re not even trying to make friends.”

“In case you don’t remember, I didn’t want to come.” Lance rolled his eyes and nudged him.

“He says he can’t dance,” Hunk said.

“Lies!” Lance shouted over the base. Keith glanced at him. “You just need a good dance partner. Either they help you move, or they move so well, you don’t have to do much but sit there and look pretty.” He shrugged.

Suddenly the beat finally changed and the strum of a guitar filled the air. “Oh hell yes!” Lance shrieked. “Come on, Keith, you’re dancing with me.” Just like that, Keith’s legs turned to rubber and his stomach flipped as he pulled Keith out of his seat.

“What?” he yelped.

“Hurry! We can’t miss the good part!” he called back, his hand warm and tight around Keith’s. He pushed past people until he was in the center of the dance floor.

The song became a little more upbeat, with a catchy tune, and Lance’s hands gripped Keith’s hips. “Watch me,” he shouted.

_Des-pa-cito_

Suddenly Lance was rolling his hips against Keith’s as he also rolled Keith’s for him. He couldn’t help but gasp, but before he could say anything, Lance had a hand at his side and the other intertwined with his, and he was moving in swaying steps to each side, tugging Keith with him.

Around him, he could see couples with their legs intertwined, girls swaying their hips like they were belly dancing, guys running their hands along their thighs or their sides. Even girl couples were pressed against each other, rolling their entire bodies.

Lance turned him, pulling him in so his back was pressed against Lance’s chest. And Keith realized he was singing along with the music. His voice was husky and sweet, melodic as he sang the lyrics, short of breath. His hands moved Keith this way and that, and suddenly they were facing each other again.

Lance was smiling, his blue eyes bright. Keith found that he didn’t have to be hyperaware of his movements; Lance was doing it for him. Suddenly, laughter bubbled up his throat and burst from him as he looked at the stupid, happy smile on Lance’s plump lips. Another body roll and Keith was suddenly pressed close to him, his face heating up as his arms wrapped around Lance’s neck to keep his balance.

He had no idea what the words were, but with Lance’s voice singing them sensually in his ear, he didn’t care. After a few seconds, Keith found he didn’t need Lance’s guidance as much. He was dancing just fine, moving his feet in time with Lance’s.

Without thinking, he pressed his forehead against Lance’s, causing Lance’s breath to hitch. Then suddenly, the look in his eyes was much cloudier and his singing stopped. His grip tightened and pulled Keith even closer, which Keith didn’t mind.

He moved his hands into his soft brown hair and smiled as the music continued. It was like there was no one else in the club. No one else mattered. He only cared for Lance’s hands on his body, his hair between his fingers, his eyes focused on him, and his lips, parted as he panted for breath.

Foreheads pressed together, hands at the nape of his neck, eyes locked together, Keith licked his lips. Even the music slowed for a moment. Their dance stopped and Lance’s expression was suddenly serious as his hands came up to Keith’s cheeks. Then, he leaned in slowly. Too slowly.

Keith closed the space and kissed him as the beat picked up again. He was vaguely aware of the song ending, but it didn’t matter.

His every sense was taken over by the Lance’s warmth, the sweet taste of his lips, the low grunt in the back of his throat. Kissing him was blissful. It was wonderful. His every nerve was alive, filling him with adrenaline as fire course through his veins. Lance bit his lip and Keith moaned, pressing closer, despite the fact that there was no space left.

Someone bumped into them and they pulled apart, breathing heavily, their eyes locked on the other. “Wow,” Lance breathed. “You wanna…?” He gestured toward the entrance and Keith nodded, unable to form words.

Their hands intertwined, they left the club and clambered into the back seat of his car. Immediately, Keith’s lips were on his again, pushing him down against the seat. His laugh filled the car and his hand came up to stroke Keith’s cheek. “I’ve been dying to do that for months,” he murmured.

“Took you long enough,” he answered, leaning down to kiss him again. Okay, so he liked Lance. Oh fucking well.


End file.
